


It's a Hit

by SubwayWolf



Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, Long-Term Relationship(s), M/M, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-26
Updated: 2017-07-26
Packaged: 2018-12-07 04:05:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11615496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SubwayWolf/pseuds/SubwayWolf
Summary: You and Craig have known each other for a long time, but even as resident experts on each other's pretty-much-everything, reading feelings is never easy.





	It's a Hit

**Author's Note:**

> hi i'm zack and i love dads! i figured the best way to go about writing a DDADS fic would be to write in second person. damn, has it been a long time since i've done that. probably since middle school. god i'm old. anyway, i stuck to canon but i sprinkled a bit of Backstory in there. lots of Big Feelings in this one but there's steamy stuff as well. also i should mention - this Dad has a dick so heads up if your Dad is trans/etc.
> 
> i kinda wanna do a fic where i ship some of the dads together but im not sure what's popular or what people even ship so im just gonna.. hang back a bit until i get a feel for this fandom lol.
> 
> enjoy! :D

As much as you liked the South and the people there and your friends and the weather and the food, you never really got used to the land itself. You hated how the arrangements of the buildings and bureaus didn’t appeal to your vision, and you hated the smell of it, and the sounds at night and sundown, and how heavy the summers felt on your skin, and the taste of the steel on the underside of your tongue. Massachusetts was a lot better, for so many reasons. You grew up in the Northeast, so it felt like home in an odd sort of way. You found yourself in the area more and more often in recent years. The air tasted and smelled so much cleaner there. Sleeping was easier. The small details made a difference, like the species of birds and the color of dirt and the comforting lack of kudzu. 

And as it turned out, Craig Cahn was in Massachusetts. He hadn’t moved to Maple Bay until recently, but when Craig knew you were coming, announced or not, he always seemed to be in town. This was uncanny, unfailing, and often startling, but you had grown used to it. You looked forward to it, every time. 

It had been decades since you two had first met, back in college, when you both arrived early in the summer of your freshman year for football training camp, and roomed together that summer and all the years to follow. You considered yourselves breakthrough rookies back then, but Craig was the one with talent. It had been Craig who won Rookie of the Year that season. The call was close down to the last vote – or so Craig claimed, to console you. Statistics expected him fizzle out from his glory, but the both of you remained on the team despite a strong academic workload and a hell of a lot of partying. Craig kept his starting position all three years later, continuing to crank out wildcard and playoff-worthy season records and damn good pass yards and touchdowns. You sat on the bench for the most part, but it was fun to watch him. Craig had even started for a championship season and made the playoffs a respectable number of times. Despite his school-wide fame, he stood by your side as your best friend.

There was a certain, undeniable chemistry between you two ever since your first meeting. Craig was charming and had a cute, easy flash of a smile that was endearing in a whole number of ways. Looking back, hooking up with him was inevitable. You were young and cocky back then, trying to prove something or another, full of energy and excitement - a typical college boy. It had been a long time since , longer than you liked reflecting upon. Thinking too hard about it made you slightly uncomfortable. In reality, you weren’t _that much_ older now, but god, after raising Amanda and losing Alex, you felt like it. Physically and mentally. 

Keeping the tradition going and maintaining the relationship didn’t require too much effort, for you and Craig were always, unswervingly there for each other – by phone, Skype call, and occasionally in person. Some of the calls were standard, how’s-your-daughter, how’s-the-divorce-going, do-you-need-to-talk-about-it conversations. Some got more intimate, sexual, and personal. But the longer this side-relationship went on, the more uneasy it made you. And the longer the situation went unaddressed, the more questions you had for yourself. 

Moving back to Maple Bay and solidifying your relationship with Craig into a daily-basis level thing almost seemed natural. But you two kept it quiet from your daughters, and hid it as best you could from the neighbors – which was difficult, since they loved to gossip. Keeping it all in the shadows was not easy, and it felt horrible. To touch and be touched by Craig sometimes made you feel younger, but recently it made you feel sick and bad. As polarized as these outcomes were, you had grown to find no problem enduring sex and company just to find out the result. Craig didn’t seem to have a problem with it either, but you never really asked how it made him feel.

It was probably a bad idea for you to avoid considering how he felt about any of this, because you were shocked when Craig stood, shoulders slightly hunched as he finally confessed.

Craig looked at his feet and shrugged, muttering, “I care for you. I guess.” His line of vision fixed on a corner of the room, and he furrowed his brow, refusing to meet your eyes.

Seated upon the bed, you sighed. It was not a sigh of disappointment, but one of sympathy. Craig was quite good at disguising his facial expressions to hide emotions, but he was not as good at hiding the tone of his voice, especially not from you, who had known him since what felt like the dawn of time.

Unsure what exactly to do when faced with big feelings like this, you made a joke instead. “You guess? Don’t you yell at your team for doing exactly that during games?”

Craig locked eyes, then approached you, up to the edge of the bed, his frustrated, dark-eyed gaze fixated down. “You’re making me feel stupid,” he grumbled. Obviously, it was not frequently that Craig bared his heart for real. You knew this, or at least you should have. Maybe Craig expected some sort of consolation.

You offered a lopsided half-smile. You leaned back on the bed, propping yourself up on your arms, wrists bent rather uncomfortably, pressing in to the plush, white comforter of the bed. “I don’t mean to,” you said gently, tilting your head to the side slightly. “But you are, sometimes.” 

You spread your legs wider in your sitting position. Craig noticed, the movement of his eyes the only motion amidst the silence. It took about this long for his words to actually settle in your mind. 

You looked away now, sighing towards the wall. “And this is,” you finished quietly.

Craig took a seat on the edge of the bed, level with your hips. He turned and swiftly unfastened the button and zipper of your pants, sliding them down and off with an expert swiftness. 

“This is what?” Craig asked for clarification, looking up at your face and trying to attain eye contact even though he knew he wouldn’t.

“Stupid.” 

The white fabric of your underwear was all that remained from exposing you to the world. You tried to ignore the new vulnerability, the cold air on your bare legs. Craig reached out and brushed his fingers against the base end of your package, then moved his hand to cup your balls, lightly and gently, then a little rougher. You hummed, tensing up, growing increasingly uncomfortable in this position. You moved your arms and laid back on the bed, draping your hands over your stomach.

You let out a long exhale, staring up at the ceiling and sighing. “We’re too old.”

Just as quick as Craig was an inch away from pouring out his heart, he was right back to his typical, amiable self. “We’re not old at all. We’re two good-looking adult men in their physical prime. Society expects us to have fun, to get a little sweaty.” _Physical prime._ Yeah, right. Certainly on his end, but not on yours.

His touch was growing heavier, more frequent. His fingers shifted and slipped down the band of the front of your underwear, skin finally, _finally_ touching skin. 

Watching the ceiling fan spin on its lowest setting, you shook your head. “No.” Any attempts to speak with strength were futile. You weakened at his touch. After all these years, it was still embarrassingly easy to get your cock hard. “No, not at all. Society _doesn't_ expect this.” Blood was rushing down, filling up your cock, slowly but surely. You raised an arm and draped it over your eyes, closing them, seeing nothing but blackness. “At this age, we’re supposed to be settled. We’re supposed to be…” You closed your mouth before you could continue saying something so stupid.

Craig laughed silently, and you only knew this because of how gently the bed shook. “Straight?” he finished, dictating the word like it was the punchline to a joke. 

As Craig moved his hands and began to slide the underwear off of your hips, he noticed your muscles tensing up in apprehension. 

His voice came out softly, cautiously. “Bro, open your eyes,” he directed. 

He waited patiently for you to move your arm and stare up at the ceiling again. You didn't know what to say to convey what you were feeling right now, so you stayed quiet. You felt him touch you - a gentle, intimate touch as he affectionately placed his hand on your abdomen, feeling it rise and lower with repressed breathing. 

“Do you want this?” His voice was so gentle and caring it almost sent a shiver through you. 

The concern and careful caution in Craig’s question made a corner of your lips upturn in a small smile. “I want this,” you answered. 

For a second, you almost forgot that you were half-naked at home in Maple Bay, Massachusetts. Craig’s touch was so warm, his hand so soft against your skin, perfectly-matching temperatures as if biologically confirming you two were the exact same and belonged together. The sensation in your heart made it feel like transcendence, or like heaven. 

Craig’s gaze traveled to the half-hard cock between your legs. He stated, clearly, “I’m going to touch you.” He raised his hand but hesitated mid-air, waiting patiently for affirmation.

You closed your eyes once again. Your tongue darted out from between your lips for half a second, nervously. “Yeah,” you breathed. “Okay.”

The instant Craig got a grip around the base of your cock, you grew heavy and hard in his hand, pulsating eagerly. A shiver went up your spine when Craig’s other arm hooked underneath your leg, fingers moving towards the opening of your ass, deliberately. And as Craig began to methodically stroke with one hand, the other moved in, one finger at first, pressing it into your tight opening and then deep into clenched autonomic muscles. He attuned to the chorus of quiet gasps and hums coming from you and added another finger, scissoring them together, making him slick and wet and hot as the tightness slackened ever slightly. 

Blind to the situation yet again, Craig posed the worst question possible. “Bro, do you care for me, too?”

Childishly, you found it funny, and amusement lit up the back of your head somewhere. Here your best friend-turned-lover Craig Cahn was saying, _I care for you_ , while his fingers were pressing up your ass. Was he for real right now? Is this how care was supposed to be displayed? Was this really love in the twenty-first century?

These questions stopped mattering as quickly as they were internally posed. You spread your legs even more, as far as you could. “Does it matter if I care? Am I supposed to?” You didn’t mean for it to sound rude, accusatory, or calloused, but it probably sounded like all three.

And Craig had nothing to say to that, so he continued working, and you were almost grateful. Craig was making sizeable progress up your backside without lube, but as a consequence it burned a bit. You ignored the uncomfortable sensation and slowly succumbed to the pleasure. Aching for more, you bucked your hips, receiving him even deeper, so deep that knuckles were kneading into sensitive skin. It took you by surprise when Craig leaned over and began to work with his mouth instead, sucking and using his tongue to trail across and around your head and down your shaft. 

You tried relaxing but your mind was running wild, thinking about the question you didn’t exactly answer, and what the answer should be. You loved Maple Bay, you loved being home, and you loved Craig, too. 

Pressure was building in your head the same way it was stiff between your legs and achingly stiff in your balls. You needed release, in more ways than one.

“Craig,” you interrupted, a breath away from succumbing to a low moan. “It doesn’t matter if I’m supposed to care. Since when have we ever done what we were _supposed_ to?” 

Craig was too preoccupied to respond. You exhaled until there was no air left in your lungs, gasping only when the head of your cock grazed up against the back of Craig’s throat. God, it felt so good. Everything felt so _good_.

“It doesn’t matter,” you exhaled again. “This makes me happy. I love you and I care about you.” Colors were swirling behind your eyes. “It doesn’t matter, you know?”

Only pausing for a second, Craig moved his head up, sliding your cock out from his mouth, moving his lips away, only maintaining a light, few-fingered grip on its base. 

He made a face at you, scoffing in a mocking way. “Dude, what is this, the dentist?” 

You sat up slightly and stared at him, puzzled. 

Craig rolled his eyes. “I can’t respond to you when I have your dick in my mouth, you know.” He couldn’t hold back a smile and looked at you with mischievously-narrowed eyes.

You relaxed, keeping the eye contact for as long as you could, your heart lightening and fluttering in your chest. “Yeah, yeah. Heh…” You laid back again, letting your eyes fall closed, seeing color and brightness and Craig’s smiling face behind them. “Yeah.” You sighed happily, forgetting the rest of the world. Happiness was overtaking you, tightening your throat and puddling small tears at the corners of your eyes. “Get back to it, rookie."


End file.
